XIII AYESHA UNVEILS
“There,” said She, “he has gone, the white-bearded old fool! Ah, how little knowledge does a man acquire in his life. He gathereth it up like water, but like water it runneth through his fingers, and yet, if his hands be but wet as though with dew, behold a generation of fools call out, ‘See, he is a wise man!’ Is it not so? But how call they thee? ‘Baboon,’ he says,” and she laughed; “but that is the fashion of these savages who lack imagination, and fly to the beasts they resemble for a name. How do they call thee in thine own country, stranger?”
“They call me Holly, oh Queen,” I answered.
“Holly,” she answered, speaking the word with difficulty, and yet with a most charming accent; “and what is ‘Holly’?”
“’Holly’ is a prickly tree,” I said.
“So. Well, thou hast
